Grace
by Cruellae
Summary: She was beautiful in the light of the setting sun, her touch tender, her voice gentle.  And yet she was one of them, a mage grasping at anything that might bring her power.  Her tenderness was a lie, it had to be.  My AU Hawke/Fenris story re-imagined.
1. Chapter 1

This is a re-write of my story "Gentle." It is an AU, where Fenris never escaped slavery. After the events in Kirkwall, the Champion and her friends are on the run (thanks Anders!) They travel to Tevinter, where Hawke tries to build a new life, and meets a certain elf.

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><p>Danarius had a grand entrance hall, huge mahogany carvings winding up and down the bleak walls, heavy portraits of old magisters with fierce scowls guarding the wide passageway. The air was heavy and dusty, and there were no windows, only the suffocating, flickering light of torches.<p>

Danarius and Hadriana walked towards the front door, Fenris a step behind, as was appropriate.

"Must you really take another apprentice?" said Hadriana, her voice high and whining. "And a Ferelden barbarian at that."

Danarius chuckled. "I think you will find her more than adequate," he replied. "She is the Champion of Kirkwall, after all."

Fenris could almost hear Hadriana scowling.

Danarius reached the door and pulled it open, the heavy wood creaking. Fenris squinted, the sunlight falling bright and heedless into the dark hallway. Framed by the light was a small woman, slender and diminutive. She stepped into the hallway, bowing to Danarius and acknowledging Hadriana with a slight nod.

She was…not like other mages. She wore a simple gray dress that ran like water over the gentle curves of her breasts and hips. Her hair fell down her back, almost to her waist, and shimmered golden brown, the sun dancing upon it. She wore no jewelry, no adornments at all, except for the delicately carved white wooden staff on her back.

Next to Hadriana, she did look plain. The other woman's hair was done up in a complex series of twists and curls, adorned with precious gemstones. Her robe was a rich brocade, embroidered with red silk flowers. She wore several golden chains around her neck and a golden bangle on her right wrist, all enchanted and shining with magic potency.

The door closed, leaving only the flicker of torches to illuminate her face.

"Hadriana, this is Lily Hawke," said Danarius, glancing from one apprentice to the other, a familiar leer on his face.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," said Hadriana, smiling. She had obviously decided that this plain peasant from Ferelden posed no threat to her or her status, and so she could afford politeness and cheap words.

"The pleasure is mine," said Hawke, returning the cold smile with one of her own, her dark eyes insincere and sharp in the flickering light. She drew herself up, appearing taller and more poised, and every bit as deadly as Hadriana herself. Despite the plain gray frock and the lovely hair, she looked like a magister. The moment of beauty when she had been framed by the setting sun seemed only an illusion.

Fenris was a slave, not worthy of an introduction, but he felt the woman's eyes on him. He could not read the expression on her face, the light in her dark eyes, but doubtless she was following the white lines of lyrium that disfigured him, her eyes sliding over his skin like a serpent's tongue, the way Danarius's own gaze often did.

He glared at her from over his master's shoulder and she met his gaze, something in her face softening as she offered him a small, almost apologetic smile.

How odd.

The three mages and the elf made their way to the dining hall, another long, grandiose stretch of dark wood and thick, mauve carpet. Here, a few stained glass windows let in a twisted, distorted sort of light, which fell on the table and chairs, making them seem sinister, the polished wood reflecting red.

Danarius sat at the head and his two apprentices sat on either side, both tilted towards the master. Fenris stood in his usual spot, just behind Danarius's left shoulder.

He tried not to watch as the three mages ate. The hunger gnawing in his gut was familiar, and he was proud of the way he was able to push it to the back of his mind until it barely registered.

The apprentice ate slowly, her eyes flickering to him again and again. He looked down at himself, suddenly self-conscious under her scrutiny. He knew he was an object of curiosity, even envy, with his markings and the distinctive armor Danarius had made just for him. But her gaze was different. It was not bold or lecherous. There was a definite shyness to the way she looked away whenever he caught her eye, a touch of color coming to her cheeks as she turned determinedly to her food.

"So I hear you're a spirit healer," said Hadriana, smiling at Hawke. "How…quaint." The way she spoke the last word made it an insult.

"It's quite useful," said Hawke, her expression cold, her eyes so much harder than when they had lingered on Fenris. "I could teach you, if you'd like."

Hadriana's eyes narrowed and a scowl briefly touched her lips. Fenris wanted to smirk. Hadriana's lack of composure would one day be her downfall in the subtle power games the magisters and their apprentices played.

"I hear you are capable at more than just healing," said Danarius, eyeing his apprentices.

"Oh, I doubt I have any spells that could surprise you," Hawke purred, her tone changing entirely as she turned to the magister.

Danarius chuckled, pleased with the flattery. If Fenris hadn't been trained to be impassive at all times, his face would have wrinkled into a scowl. This new apprentice was obviously another Hadriana, another scheming bitch hoping to gain a bit of power for herself by any means necessary. He tuned out the rest of their conversation, refusing to glance at the apprentice, though he felt her eyes on him more than once.

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><p>"What an…intriguing woman," said Danarius as Fenris helped him step out of his lavish robe. "She certainly will liven things up around here."<p>

Fenris draped the thick purple fabric over his arm and carried it to the closet, where he carefully hung it among Danarius's other garments, all similarly heavy and opulent.

Danarius's chambers were large and shadowed, dominated by a four poster bed draped with mauve velvet curtains. The floor was bare stone, cold against Fenris's feet. Too hot for a fire, the only light in the room came from several magical lamps around the room, a dim reddish glow that made the markings on his skin stand out, bright white.

"She certainly seemed intrigued by you," said Danarius, turning to smirk at his slave. "I noticed her staring at you all through dinner."

Fenris did not answer. He knew better than to speak except in response to a direct question. He simply kept his gaze directed at Danarius's feet and waited.

"I was rather pleased with her," continued the magister. "She can hold her own against Hadriana, but she also knows her place."

Fenris could feel the man's gaze travel over him like warm grease. He wanted to scrub at his skin, but he made no move.

"Perhaps she would enjoy some company tonight," said Danarius. "I can't imagine I will need you for anything more at the moment."

Fenris nodded. He did not need Danarius to explicitly spell out his orders—every suggestion and wish the man made was a command to him.

He quickly changed, wearing loose soft pants and forgoing a shirt to make things easier. He wandered down darkened hallways, not bothering to light a torch. He knew the way well enough, as Hawke's room was just down the hall from Hadriana's quarters—he was often sent there if Hadriana had pleased Danarius in some way.

Familiar fear swirled beneath his breastbone as he strode across the stone floors, making no sound. Nights at Hadriana's service were always long, painful, and exhausting. He had no hope this other apprentice would be any different. Already his skin was crawling in anticipation of the filthy, soiled feeling that always came after this sort of task.

He arrived at Hawke's door entirely too soon, raising a hand to knock. He was proud it did not tremble.

Surprise colored her soft features when she opened the door to see him standing there. He could see her eyes get wider as they traveled quickly over his shoulders and torso. Her mouth opened slightly, soft red lips parted just a bit.

"W-what do you need?" she said, stammering, a full red blush rising in her cheeks. Fenris frowned, confused by her strange behavior.

"Danarius sent me to attend to you," he said. That much should have been obvious, he thought, but perhaps things were done differently where she was from.

"Attend to me?" she said, her voice soft, so unlike the tone she took when speaking to Danarius or Hadriana. "I…I don't need anything at the moment. Thank you, though."

She moved to close the door, and relief flooded him, making taut muscles suddenly go limp. He turned and headed back down the hallway, intending to wash, and perhaps check if any scraps were left from dinner.

Hadriana stood in the hallway, blocking his way and scowling.

"Danarius sent you to _her_?" she said, spitting the final word.

Fenris nodded, his eyes demurely on Hadriana's bare feet. The relief that had washed over him was gone now, his muscles tight again as panic ran through him at the sounds of her anger.

"Did you displease her?" said Hadriana. "Or is she simply too good for the likes of you?"

"I do not know," said Fenris, his tone level, betraying none of the fear he felt.

"Hmph," said Hadriana. "Come with me."

"I…Danarius will…I need to…" Fenris struggled to come up with an excuse, an escape. A night with Hadriana was more than he could bear, not having eaten or slept recently, his back still tender from a recent beating.

"You need to _what_?" said Hadriana, turning her full fury on him. "What is more important than obeying me?"

As she spoke she reached towards him, touching two fingers to the two lines of lyrium that ran down his chin. When her fingers met his skin, they sent magic coursing through the lyrium like fire across his body, searing pain traveling along the markings.

The agony made his mind go blank, and when it subsided he found himself on his hands and knees, gasping. He vaguely realized someone had cried out in pain, and wondered if it was him.

A door down the hallway opened and Hawke stepped out. She looked over at him, frowning.

"Slave," she said, her tone harsh. "I thought I asked you to bring me some water, not dally in the hallway. Go."

Fenris scrambled to his feet, skin still burning, and scurried down the hall as quickly as he could. He could hear Hawke and Hadriana speaking, but he couldn't make out any words. Once he was out of their sight, he took a moment to lean on a nearby counter, gasping. The markings were still glowing dimly, and they ached. His whole body ached.

He gulped the air, trying to beat down the desperation that was taking him over. He did not know what to expect, what the strange apprentice would do to him, and it was almost worse than knowing to expect pain.

When he returned with a glass of water, Hawke and Hadriana had returned to their rooms. This time, when he knocked on the door his hand trembled. He cursed his weakness, shame running through him.

Hawke opened the door. This time her eyes did not wander over his chest and she did not blush. Her expression was grim, and he steeled himself for the worst, but she simply took the water from his hand and gestured for him to come inside.

She shut and locked the door behind him. He focused his eyes on a point on the distant wall, willing himself to forget everything else, the pain, the fear.

"Your markings are glowing," she said, looking at him. Her eyes were gentle, and sad. "Did Hadriana do something to them?"

He pulled his glance away from her brown eyes and forced it to the floor, properly demure. He nodded.

"That bitch," said Hawke, glancing at the door as though she could singe the other apprentice through the wall. "It sounded horribly painful."

Fenris did not respond, but stared more fiercely at her feet.

"Do they still hurt?" said Hawke. He could tell by her tone that she was unhappy, and wondered how he'd managed to displease her already.

He nodded again.

"It's okay," said Hawke. "You can look at me."

He slowly raised his eyes, running them over the soft gray fabric of her dress and finally meeting her gaze. She gave him a small smile, but some sadness still lingered in her face.

"I might be able to help," she said. "Is it okay if I try a spell on you? I think it will make your markings feel better."

"I…I think Danarius means for you to do as you wish with me," he said. "As long as you do not cause any permanent damage."

Hawke's eyes widened. "Do you…do you think I am going to hurt you?" she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper as though she was talking to a skittish animal.

Fenris did not know a safe answer to that question.

"I promise this won't hurt," she said. She moved her hands close to his chest, not quite touching him, and a soft blue glow pulsed outward from them. It was as though someone had poured cool water over him, the burning in his skin subsiding entirely before the touch of her magic. He gasped at the suddenness of the sensation, the pain completely gone.

"Did that help?" she said, a small furrow appearing between her brows.

He nodded, forcing himself to look at her face. It was such a soft face, almost heart shaped, large dark eyes and full lips. It was hard to believe it was the same face that had been so cold and so cunning at dinner.

"Good," she said, smiling. "Come, sit," she said, gesturing to one of the cushy chairs next to the fireplace.

He gingerly lowered himself into the chair, his muscles still tense and aching. He leaned back against the fabric, wincing as his weight pressed against his still tender back.

Hawke looked at him, speculating. "Your muscles hurt too?" she said. "And your back?"

He did not know what to say.

"I'm a healer," she said, "trained by one of the best. I can tell these things."

"I am well enough to do whatever you require of me," he said, hoping she would say what exactly was required of him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, her voice almost mournful. "I promise. Don't look at me that way, like I'm one of_ them_."

She turned away from him, staring at the fireplace. "I know what it looks like, but…I'm not like them," she said, almost more to herself. "I just want to protect my family." She took a deep breath and turned back to him.

He nodded.

"I'm not going to use you," she said. "I don't even know your name."

"Fenris," he said.

"Fenris," she replied, the name soft and velvety on her tongue. "Maybe tonight I can help you a little. Since you are stuck with me anyway. I imagine if I send you away Hadriana will grab you again."

Fenris nodded again.

"Can I touch you?" she said.

He stared at her. "I am certain Danarius would permit it," he said. "That is why he sent me here."

"But is it okay with you?" she said. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

He looked at her, uncertain. He did not want to go back to Hadriana, not now that Hawke had somehow de-activated his markings.

"It is…okay," he said, hoping that was the right answer.

She smiled again, a little less reserved. "Your back is injured, isn't it?" she said.

He nodded.

"Lay down on the bed on your stomach," she said.

Inside his head he winced, careful not to show Hawke his hesitation. He knew the night would eventually lead him to the bed, and nothing pleasant happened there.

"I promise not to hurt you," she said, but he knew the value of a mage's promise. Still, he lay down on the bed, knowing worse punishment came from disobeying.

He heard her open her pack and rummage around, bottles and jars clinking.

"This will help heal your back," she said, and he could hear her footsteps moving towards the bed. "And it will prevent scarring."

The bed shifted as she sat down next to him. He could smell elfroot and something musky and rich.

And then her hands were on him, soft and warm and slick with some strange lotion. Her touch was light, gentle, and his skin felt traces of warmth following the path of her hands. He could feel the pain in his back subsiding, slowly.

He had never been touched like this before, a gentle caress. There was no pain, even as the mage's hands traveled over the markings on his back, just the soft silkiness of her skin, the warmth of her fingertips. As the pain subsided entirely, she began to massage his muscles, nimble fingers slowly eroding the tense knots in his back.

Tears came to his eyes, so intense was the sensation of being cared for. He could not remember a touch that did not hurt. He had not realized it could feel so good. This…this was worth anything she might do after.

When his back felt entirely boneless, she took one of his arms in her hands and continued her massage, running her fingers down the length of his markings. She took his hand and set it in her lap, massaging each finger and then using her thumbs to relax his palm. Then she moved to his feet, doing much the same thing.

The touch on his hands and feet was different, strange. It made him feel hot and a little breathless, his heart beating faster. It was like fear, but it wasn't fear. It was utterly novel. His chest tightened and warmth pooled in his groin. He let out an entirely unintentional groan and Hawke froze for a moment.

"Did…did I hurt you?" she said, her voice hesitant.

"No," he managed to say. "It…is unexpected."

"I…I could do your legs, if you want," she said, "but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

He chuckled, thinking bitterly of what Hadriana would be doing to him right now. And this Hawke thought she could make him uncomfortable with a few touches.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," he said, quickly, not wanting her to think he was laughing at her. He sat up and pulled his pants down, unconcerned about his nudity. Hawke blinked at him and turned away, but not before he noticed her red cheeks.

He lay back down without being told and after a few moments she was running her hands over his calves, digging gentle fingers into the muscles there. As she worked her way up his legs, the same strange warmth came over him. He lay as still as he could, trying to memorize every sensation.

"Do you feel better?" said Hawke, after she'd finished with his thighs.

"I do," he replied. What comes now, he wondered, but did not dare to ask.

"Here," she said. He turned to find her holding his pants out to him, her face turned away. He put them back on, quickly as the sight of his nudity seemed to bother her.

He stood still, waiting for his next orders, but Hawke didn't say anything. Her eyes wandered across his face, her gaze both gentle and intense, and he felt almost as though she was caressing his face.

"You look exhausted," she said. "When was the last time you slept? Or ate?"

He shook his head, unsure. "I am fine," he said. "I can attend to any needs you have."

"I'm hungry," she said. "Show me where the kitchens are."

"I can get you something," he said. "You need not trouble yourself."

"Hadriana might ambush you in the hallway," she replied. "I'll not have that bitch ruining all my hard work."

He nodded, grateful, and led her through the halls. She conjured up a small blue light that bobbed above their heads as they walked.

"How long have you…um…worked for Danarius?" she said.

"A long time," he replied. The passage of time was a strange thing, one he rarely bothered with, as it affected him very little. He slept and ate when he could steal the time, not when the sun was at the right point in the sky.

"Right," she said. "Where are you from?"

"Seheron," he said. "The kitchens are here. What can I get for you?"

"Um…what do you like?" she said.

He moved to the icebox, where Danarius kept his fruit magically fresh and produced an orange. He had once tasted a bit of the pulpy fruit, its sweetness almost overwhelming.

"Get two," she said. He obeyed and set them on a plate in front of her.

"Here," she said handing one to him. "Eat. You look hungry."

He stared at her. A whole orange? Was she taunting him? Would he be punished for taking a bite?

As she took a bite of her own, juice running down her chin, he thought perhaps it might be worth the punishment.

But none came. She simply smiled at him as he ate the fruit, and when he'd finished, she insisted he eat something else.

Once she was satisfied with how much he'd eaten, they walked back to her room. Fenris could feel his energy returning with the food. Between that and the massage he felt he could take on a whole legion if the need arose.

"Now, get some sleep," said Hawke, gesturing to the bed. "I'm just…going to read for a while, and mix some potions."

He stared at her, then at the large, luxurious bed, then at her again.

"I mean it," she said. "You look like you're about to fall over."

He moved quickly, then, not wanting to disobey her. He lay down on top of the blankets, staring at the ceiling, watching Hawke out of the corner of his eye. When she really did sit down with a book near the fire, he relaxed, allowing his eyes to close.

He was asleep within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter contains a rape scene, so please read with caution!

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><p>Fenris woke suddenly, his whole body tensing at the unfamiliar circumstances. Without opening his eyes, he tried to determine where he was. The bed beneath him was soft, a light blanket lying over his body, fuzzy against his bare chest. He was rather comfortable, and more than that, he did not hurt. He was used to pain, a constant companion, and it was almost unsettling to realize that no part of his body hurt.<p>

He opened his eyes. The room was dark, the light of the rising sun illuminating it just enough that he could make out the apprentice. She was sleeping in a chair next to the unlit fireplace, her soft mouth slightly open, her breathing heavy and even. She looked gentle and vulnerable with her eyes closed, her body slumped, hands open on her lap. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders and fell across her chest.

He moved silently, not wanting to wake her. He regarded her sleeping for a long moment, wondering why she hadn't woken him so she could sleep in the bed.

He slid a hand along her back and another beneath her knees and lifted her easily to his chest. Her skin was warm, almost hot even through the thin nightdress she wore, and she was surprisingly light. She shifted in her sleep, pressing her cheek against his bare chest, the corner of her lips just grazing his skin and he froze for a moment, a strange heat coursing through him.

He set her on the bed and pulled the light blanket over her. She sighed and settled into the pillow, smiling just a little.

As he walked down the dark corridors to his own quarters, he thought of her, replaying the night in his head. He imagined the blue light of her healing magic and remembered the way it had flowed like cool water over his skin. He thought of her touch, of her fingertips running over his skin, and he shivered a little at the memory.

He washed and dressed quickly and went out to the training yard.

He lifted his sword, feeling stronger than he had in ages, his muscles loose and ready to spring to action. The training dummy didn't stand a chance. Half a dozen men wouldn't have stood a chance. He danced more quickly and gracefully than usually, whirling his sword in great arcs, slamming it into the dummy again and again, from every angle.

The sun was high in the sky when he finally stopped, his arms aching with exhaustion. A good kind of exhaustion, the kind that comes after hard, rewarding work.

"That was…amazing," a soft voice murmured. He whirled around to see Hawke, smiling at him, her eyes wide and sparkling.

He looked down at her feet, frowning. How long had she been there, watching him? She was no doubt impressed by the abilities Danarius had bestowed upon him, and like all mages she would attribute his prowess to magic—forgetting the work and dedication it took to become a living weapon.

"You are very graceful," she said. "My brother would love to spar with you sometime. He's a swordsman too."

Fenris nodded, still looking down at his feet. He heard a door opening, the pitter of timid feet crossing the courtyard.

"Breakfast is ready, mistress," said the slave. She was a sweet, timid girl he recognized as belonging to Hadriana.

"Thank you," said Hawke, smiling at the slave. "I'll be right there."

Hawke turned back to him and he forced his eyes to the ground again. "I guess I'd better go," she said. "I'll talk to you later."

Fenris was left alone in the training yard to ponder Hawke's odd behavior, her strange words.

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><p>He spent the day watching her. She spoke so differently, as haughty and cold as any magister, it was hard to believe her tenderness the night before. She was as sharp tongued as Hadriana, and the two sparred verbally all day, much to Danarius's amusement.<p>

He tried to ignore her words and her voice in favor of watching the sun on her hair as they wandered through Danarius's magnificent gardens, the shadows of her face in the glow of the magical lamps that hung around the magister's study.

When Danarius finally dismissed him for the night, he hurried to the kitchens, nimbly scurrying down the dark hallways, hoping for a few scraps to eat.

But Hadriana had gotten there first. She stepped out of the shadows, smirking at him.

"Hungry?" she said. She was holding a plate of stale bread and cheese in one hand, the other resting on her hip.

He gazed at the floor, dismay settling in his chest.

"Come here," she said, sitting on the edge of the table. She spread her legs and raised her skirts. "Here is your supper."

Fenris suppressed a shudder as he moved towards her. Any hesitation or a show of disgust on his part would mean punishment—but Maker, he hated the taste of her, the sickening smell, the high, whining noises she made.

As he knelt before her, his mind separated from the well trained actions of his tongue, taking him away from her, from the dark room and the cold hard floor he was kneeling on. He thought of the new apprentice and how she had gasped and smiled at the abundant beauty of the gardens. He remembered how, when no one was looking, she bent down to a tiny, withered blossom and with a touch of magic make it bloom. He'd dared to meet her eyes, then, and she smiled at him, her eyes soft and happy.

Hadriana gasped and yanked at his hair, shuddering and pulling him back into the moment. He pulled away from her and she slumped on the table.

Fenris heard steps in the hallway, but did not turn.

"Too quick," Hadriana said, frowning at him. "Have I taught you nothing?"

Hawke stepped into the kitchens just in time to see Hadriana set Fenris's meager dinner ablaze, reducing it to ash.

"Next time, try harder," said Hadriana, glaring at both Fenris and Hawke. She stalked out of the room, robes swishing behind her.

Fenris turned to Hawke. She was wearing a soft gray tunic and leggings that clung to her skin as she moved. She looked at him for a long moment.

"Was that your dinner?" she said, her voice soft.

He nodded, unable to meet her eyes. He hoped she hadn't seen him servicing Hadriana, an act that always made him flush with shame and self-loathing.

Hawke moved about the kitchen, opening cupboards and pulling out food. He waited to be dismissed, but she did not say a word until she had a tray stacked with bread, meat, and fruits.

"Come with me," she said.

He followed her back to her quarters, which were pleasantly lit by a soft yellow orb that floated near the ceiling. She shut and locked the door behind him, and he couldn't help the tremor of fear that went through him at the sound.

But she just set the food on the table and smiled at him.

"Go ahead," she said. "Eat up."

He watched her as he ate, wary. His tired mind wondered at the kindness, trying to find the catch, the trick.

"You look exhausted," she said, when he had finished. "Get some sleep."

As he walked away, he realized he had not said a word to her the whole day. And yet it felt like they had spoken volumes to each other.


End file.
